The Tomb (F/F story)

Rose went through the contents of her backpack one last time, just to make sure that everything was there. She'd already looked through it several times before, but carelessness was not her thing. Besides, it gave her something to do, which calmed her nerves, while she waited for the sun to go down. She didn't want to be spotted entering the tomb. That would only lead to questions.

 

In fairness, she really shouldn't be this nervous. She already considered herself an experienced treasure hunter, and this was not her first tomb. She was quick, thorough, and never left a trace that she had been there. But there was something about her current target that made her uneasy. She shook her head, ignoring that little voice at the back of her head. At the moment, that voice was a distraction.

 

Sometimes, she liked to think about the great books that would be written about her in the future, when she was too old to go treasure hunting, and wanted to sell her story. Classics would be written about the young, petite hunter with the fiery red hair, who braved the darkest dungeons. She looked down on her tank-top, and the tight shorts that had once been a tight pair of jeans. In the stories, she would be wearing something a little more glamorous.

 

Her flashlight seemed only to enhance the darkness surrounding her, rather than dispel it. She studied the floor, to see if there were any footprints. If there were, she couldn't find any. That seemed promising. It was unusual to find a non-plundered tomb this close to civilization, and she didn't want to enter the treasury to find it empty. That would be anti-climactic.

 

The hallway was long, but there were few branching ways, so she soon found the burial chamber. That was where the owner of the tomb would be located, along with the best of the loot. She found the coffin, and tried to open the lid; often, the body would carry rings and bracelets that would fetch a pretty good price on the market. No luck. The lid was solid stone, and wouldn't budge. She would need hours to pry it open, and she had no idea if the work was worth it. She decided to leave the coffin until next time and headed further into the tomb.

 

Ten minutes later, she emerged from the inner tomb, struggling under the new weight of her backpack. She'd found a lot more than she could carry, but there was no reason she couldn't come back tomorrow, was there? She sent the coffin a nod, as if to thank the owner of the tomb for her generosity, when she spotted something that froze the blood in her veins.

 

The lid of the coffin was lying on the ground, and the coffin was empty.

 

For a few seconds, she could do nothing but stand there and stare. Slowly, her mental capacities returned to her. She hadn't been mistaken; the lid had been moved. This either meant that someone else had entered the tomb, removed the lid and the corpse in a very short amount of time... or that the owner of the tomb was up and walking again. Either way, she wasn't alone anymore.

 

The darkness of the tomb seemed a lot more intimidating now than it had been on the way in.

 

"Looking for something, child?"

 

Rose spun around, suddenly face to face with a tall, pale woman with a strange smile that made her feel very, very nervous. She was dressed in a long, white robe, with a simple tiara on her head. Her face looked to be about thirty or thereabouts, but the eyes seemed much, much older.

 

Rose noted the fangs, and realized that a real, actual vampire was eyeing her. And she didn't seem like the sparkling, fun kind of vampire, either.

 

"I asked if you were looking for something," the vampire said, taking a step towards her. Rose stepped back as quickly as she could, hoping to keep as much distance between herself and the creature as possible.

 

The vampire laughed. "You don't talk much, do you? What is your name, child?"

 

"I'm not a child," Rose said, more out of reflex than anything else. She was in her early twenties, but painfully aware that she often looked younger.

 

"Is that so?" the creature replied with a grin that made Rose's skin crawl. "There are only two kinds of people that enter my tomb, child. Curious children that want to see if the stories are true, or thieves that come to steal my property. The children are punished, then sent back. The thieves are killed." She placed her hand on Rose's neck, caressing her slightly. "Tell me, are you a curious child? Or a thief?"

 

Rose felt the cold fingers against her skin, and realized that if the vampire was strong enough to lift the stone lid without making a sound, she was more than strong enough to snap her neck with one hand. And she had a feeling that if she didn't do as the vampire wanted, that was exactly what she would do. "I'm a child," she told her, "A child!"

 

"Is that so?" the vampire said, looking down at Rose's backpack, which had fallen to the floor.  She grinned even wider, baring her fangs at her trembling captive. "That does not look like souvenirs taken by a child on adventure. So, tell me. Are you really a child that needs to be punished?"

 

The hungry eyes came closer, and Rose grasped for the only straw she had. "Yes! Yes, I'm a child! A child that should be punished!" she said, backing into the wall. There was nowhere to run, and even if there was, the vampire was faster.

 

The vampire took a step back. "Good. Come here," she said as she stepped towards the coffin. Rose followed her; if she disobeyed the vampire, she was dead, no question about it. If she did as instructed, she might have a small chance.

 

The vampire sat down on an old stone bench, beckoning Rose towards her. "Well, child, I think a good spanking will teach you not to disrupt my sleep again."

 

"A what?" Rose said, astonished.

 

"A spanking," the vampire said calmly. "I'm going to strike your bare bottom with my palm until it's red, warm and stinging. That's still a thing in this century, I trust?"

 

Rose nodded. Ordinarily, she would protest at the prospect of being treated like a child, but this was not an ordinary situation. At the moment, she would have cut off her own legs if she thought it might help her live to see sunlight.

 

Cold fingers reached forward, unbuttoning and unzipping Rose's shorts. The vampire sniffed into the air, tutting as she looked up at Rose. "The child is not even potty-trained." Rose paled as she realized that she had wet herself in fear.

 

"I'm sorry," she said, trembling a bit. If she managed to offend the vampire, she knew it would be the last thing she did.

 

"That's okay," the vampire told her as she pulled her shorts and panties down to the ground, before lifting Rose out of them and placing her over her lap. She started to rub her pale, trembling bottom. "What is your name, child?"

 

"It's Rose, ma'am. Rose Fairwater."

 

"Rose. What a lovely name," she said in an almost friendly tone. "I am Lady Honoria." She stopped rubbing. "I'm afraid that this is going to hurt very much, Rose."

 

Rose cried out as the first smacks landed on her unprotected buttocks, every fibre of her being telling her to move away, but her brain telling her to move as little as possible. She held her head down and cried as the slim, but strong vampire raised her hand again and again, covering her entire bottom with crisp, stinging swats.

 

"Are you learning your lesson, Rose? I'd hate for my efforts to be in vain."

 

"Ow! Yes, Lady – Ow! – Honoria,  I'm – ouch! – sorry for trespassing."

"Good," the vampire said, smiling brightly.

 

Rose was sobbing loudly, completely unaware of the passage of time, or what was happening around her, apart from that everlasting, all-encompassing pain. All her consciousness was focused on those two cheeks, turning redder and redder under that pale, untiring arm.

 

She slowly realized that she was back on her feet, in the vampire's embrace. Lady Honoria was rubbing her back with one hand and her sore cheeks with another, as she whispered calming words into her ear.

 

"Hush, little child. Your punishment is over, you've been forgiven your transgressions." She smiled down at her. "You can go now." The vampire pointed at her backpack. "You can take those things that you brought into my tomb. But a quick warning. If a single item of mine leaves this tomb... I'll know about it." She looked coldly at Rose. "Do you understand?"

 

Rose nodded, too scared to talk.

 

The vampire sniffed in the air. "Take your clothes with you, as well."

 

A few minutes later, Rose exited the tomb, backpack no heavier than when she entered, apart from her shorts and panties, which she'd placed in a side pocket. Partly because she didn't want to put on urine-stained clothes, and partly because she didn't want to put any pressure on her poor bottom just yet.

 

She made her way back to her car, gingerly lowering herself into the seat, grimacing at the pain. Driving back was going to be interesting.

 

She wondered what she was going to do with her time from now on, since treasure hunting was completely out of the question.

Stepsister's secret (m/f story)

This all started one day when I was on my way back home from school early. Mister Davison, our maths teacher, had to call in sick that day, and the school had been unable to find a substitute, so we’d been sent home about two hours early. My father and my stepmother were of course at work, but my stepsister Michelle had the day off from school – her class was doing a project that they were supposed to work at from home, but I think she spent most of her time surfing the web or watching films.

 

Michelle was three years older than me, and it was now a little over two years since she became my stepsister. We hung out occasionally, but I wouldn’t say we regarded each other as siblings, or even close friends. There was no animosity of any kind, but we just didn’t have much to talk about.

 

I headed inside, and as I walked past Michelle’s room, I heard some fairly strange noises inside. The door wasn’t closed, so I had a peek inside and saw something that made my jaw drop.

 

Michelle had placed her computer chair in the middle of the room, and laid a pillow across it. She was now bent over it, her stomach resting on the pillow with her backside in the air. She was smacking her the seat of her jeans with her hand, bending over in an awkward manner to reach her target. She was also lecturing herself under her breath, calling herself a “bad girl” and saying that she needed to learn a good lesson. It was, to be frank, a bizarre sight.

 

After a minute or so, she rose to her feet and started to undo the button of her jeans. Part of me wanted to leave, or to ask her what in the world was going on, but I just stood there. She pulled the jeans down to her knees, revealing a pair of fairly modest cotton panties, and bent back over the pillow, where she continued to smack her backside with her hand. After another minute, she picked up a brush that was resting on the floor, and started to apply it to her own bottom. The brush made a surprisingly sharp crack as it struck.

 

She continued like this for a few minutes, then rose again. Apparently, her imaginary spanker now told her to bare her bottom, for she slowly reached down to lower her panties to her knees. She bent back over the pillow to continue her self-punishment, and I decided to withdraw and think about what I’d seen.

 

I went for a walk to clear my head, and returned half an hour later. When I went inside, I deliberately made a bit more noise than usual, so that Michelle would hear me coming and think I’d just returned from school. I didn’t want her to know that I’d seen her – at least, not right now. Michelle was sitting at the kitchen table as I entered. I noticed she was sitting a bit more gingerly than usual. We exchanged brief nods, and I went to my room to put my backpack away and process what I’d seen.

 

Later that day, Michelle went shopping with a few of her friends, and while my father and stepmother watched TV in the living room, I decided to sneak into Michelle’s room and have a look at her computer. Half an hour later, I’d had a look at her files and browsing history, and made a few conclusions.

 

Michelle obviously had a spanking fetish. This didn’t take much mental work on my part, considering that I’d seen my stepsister bent over a chair, bare bottom  in the air as she spanked herself with a brush, but the things I found left absolutely no doubt. She seemed to have an interest in naughty girls being bent over the lap of strict, but caring, friends, who spanked them soundly for their misbehaviour. I had to admit that, while I’d never given it much thought before, I suddenly found the subject quite fascinating myself.

 

She had quite a few audio files on her computer – a strict man telling a woman he knew that his patience had run out, she’d pushed her luck too far, and she was going to get what she’d been begging for; that sort of thing. I concluded that Michelle hadn’t found someone to spank her yet, and thus had resorted to self-spanking. I couldn’t recall her ever having a boyfriend. As I left the room, I made sure that everything was exactly where it had been when I entered. I headed back to my room and thought about what I should do, now that I knew her secret.

 

That Saturday, our parents had decided to visit some friends. I knew they’d be gone for hours, so I decided it was a good opportunity to enact my plan. I was in the living room, reading in a chair, when Michelle entered, about to sit down in front of the TV.

 

“Michelle, you still haven’t done the washing up from yesterday,” I gently reminded her. We had a washing machine, but the pots and pans still needed to be washed by hand, and we took turns. Michelle had a habit of leaving it unfinished for a day or two, which had been a minor point of irritation.

 

“I know. I’ll do it later,” she said, waving it away.

 

“I think you should do it now,” I said, less gentle than before. “It’s not a good habit, leaving things unfinished like that. The rest of us have to -”

 

“I’ll do it later,” she said dismissively. “Don’t nag me.” She turned her back to me to head for the sofa, and I saw my chance.

 

“I said NOW,” I scolded as I gave the seat of her jeans a good, hard smack.

 

She spun around, clutching her backside with both hands as she stared wide-eyed at me. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but she didn’t seem to be able to think of anything to say. “You… “ she tried again. “I… it’s not…”

 

I folded my arms in front of me, doing my best to radiate determination. I wasn’t exactly sure how one does that, but I don’t think I did too badly. “Michelle, go do the washing up,” I said, in a firm voice.

 

For a second or two, she met my gaze, but then lowered her head. “OK, Robert,” she said, and walked into the kitchen.

 

I was amazed at the change she’d undergone. With a few strict words and a single slap to her posterior, my stepsister was obeying me. I had made a few guesses after taking a look at her reading material, but it was interesting to see it in action.

 

I had positioned my chair so that I could see her while she was in the kitchen. She was bent over the sink, working, and from time to time she’d look up and stare at me, as if seeing me for the first time. Her eye studied me, but when I met her gaze, she quickly looked down and continued with her task. She’d occasionally reach her hand back and rub her bottom, right where I’d slapped her. The sting couldn’t have lasted this long, so I suspected that she was savouring the memory or something.

 

After a while, she seemed to come to a decision, and turned off the water. She dried her hands and walked out of the kitchen, heading for the TV again.

 

“You’re not finished,” I said, nodding towards the unwashed pots near the sink.

 

“I’ll do it later,” she said. She tried to make her tone dismissive again, but her voice was quivering slightly.

 

“I thought I made it quite clear,” I said, standing up, “that you should do it NOW.”

 

“Or what?” she said, trying to sound mocking. “Are you going to SPANK me or something?”

 

“Yes, I am,” I said, in a calm but firm voice. I wished I felt as confident as I seemed.

 

Her hands were shaking slightly, but she placed them at her hips and tried to glare at me. “You wouldn’t dare!”

 

I smiled at that, then quickly grabbed her arm and dragged her over to the sofa, where I sat down. There wasn’t the slightest hint of resistance as I dragged her over my knee, pushing her forward until her bottom was sticking up and her head was facing the carpet. I began to rub her bottom, and smiled to myself as her cheeks clenched under my palm.

 

“You disobeyed me, Michelle,” I lectured, “and now you’re going to face the consequences.” I started to spank her. She gasped as the first smacks landed, wriggling a little under my palm, but otherwise remained in place.

 

After the day I’d looked at her files, I’d done a bit of research on my own, and picked up a few tips on how to deliver a spanking. I spanked first one cheek, then the other, delivering firm smacks over every inch of her bottom. After a few minutes, I told her to stand up.

 

“Is it over?” she asked as she rose to her feet. From the tone of her voice, she wasn’t entirely sure whether to be relieved or disappointed by the prospect.

 

“Far from it,” I said, reaching out to undo the button of her jeans. Instinctively, she took a step backward, but quickly moved forwards again when I glared at her.

 

“Sir- I mean, Robert, I’m sorry that…” she stopped, not sure of what to say.

 

“I know,” I told her as I pulled her jeans down to her knees. “But not as sorry as you’re going to be.” I patted my knees. “Over my lap,” I instructed. She immediately obeyed. Like the last time I saw her with her jeans down, she was wearing a pair of modest white cotton panties. I could tell that her bottom was beginning to turn pink, and I rubbed her seat a little bit, before delivering the first slap.

 

Everything was completely different. The sound, the sensation of the cotton-covered flesh under my palm, the way she reacted… I continued to spank her, smiling to myself as she whimpered. I continued to spank her for a few minutes, before reaching out and grabbing the waistband of her panties.

 

I hesitated. Could I really pull her panties down and spank her bare bottom? How would she react? A silly thought, considering she’d accepted everything else I’d done that day – heck, she’d been just as eager as me, as far as I could tell – but there was still a nagging voice at the back of my head. Ignoring the voice, I lowered her panties. Like before, I rubbed her bottom slowly before the spanking began. Her bottom was now pink, with parts of it turning red.

 

As my palm gently patted her seat, she took a deep breath, letting out a small moan. I started to spank her bare bottom. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she couldn’t hide the smile on her face as I spanked her soundly. She was wriggling her backside, eagerly inviting me to continue.

 

When I helped her to her feet, her bottom was bright red, and she was breathing heavily. She sat on my lap as I hugged her, rubbing her back.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “How did you know? Where did…”

 

“I’ll tell you later,” I answered.

Cleaning the kitchen (M/F story)

Sharon did her best to scowl at her friend, but David scowled back, and she had to admit, he did it better than her. It was late Saturday, and Sharon had already changed into her pyjamas and was ready to go to bed, but David was lecturing her about how it was her turn to clean the kitchen in the flat they shared, and that it was a complete mess.

 

“Relax, I'll do it tomorrow,” she said again. “I'm not going to do it now, it's too late.”

 

“You should have done it hours ago,” he told her. “But you were too busy watching television, I suppose?”

 

She knew deep down that he had a point, but she was too mad to consider it. “I need to go to bed now” she told him, turning his back to him as he headed towards her bedroom. It would probably be a while until she calmed down enough to fall asleep.

 

Then he spoke the words that would change their relationship forever: “What you need is a good spanking,” he told her in a strict tone of voice that she'd never heard him use before.

 

Sharon froze in her tracks, then spun around to stare at him in open-mouthed shock. She had never spoken to anyone about her interest in that subject, not even her best friends. And now, her friend was threatening to spank her. She thought about the fantasies she'd had, the dreams about some man, tired of her attitude, pulling her across his lap and baring her bottom. The way he'd slap her bottom, long after she'd begged him to stop. And she looked at David, tall and dark-haired, and the way he looked at her with his arms folded in front of him. “You wouldn't dare,” she said at last. She hoped he would.

 

And he did. David grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to a nearby chair. He sat down, and the butterflies soared in her stomach as he pulled her over his lap. She gasped as he pulled her pyjamas bottoms down, revealing her bare backside. “You beast! Let me up immediately,” she yelled, but she didn't even try to get up.

 

She winced as his palm firmly connected with her bare buttocks, and had to gasp for breath as he spanked her hard and fast. Soon, she was squirming around, and had to grab his leg for support as a fire began building up in her seat.

 

His hand moved from cheek to cheek, soon covering every single square inch of her butt with hard, stinging spanks. She kicked her legs and began to wonder how she was going to sit down tomorrow.

 

“Have you learned your lesson?” he said after a while. “Are you going to be a good girl now?” Sharon had a feeling that if she said yes, he'd end her spanking. He'd let her up, and she could go into her bedroom, have a look at the state of her cheeks, rub some cooling lotion into the sore spots, and fall asleep with a warm and tingling rear end.

 

“No!” she said. “I'm not! Leave me alone, you brute!”

 

And he continued the spanking. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she sobbed loudly. Her bottom burned like she'd sat in a campfire, and she was kicking her legs so hard, she almost fell off his lap.

 

After what seemed like an eternity spent clutching his leg as he spanked her, he stopped again. “Are you going to be a good girl now?”

 

“Yes, sir! Oh yes, I'll do anything, sir, please, I'll be good,” she pleaded. She knew she was babbling, but she didn't particularly care. All she wanted right now was to get a bit of distance between her butt and his hand.

 

He let her up, and she fled into her room. Wiping the tears from her face, she stared in wide-eyed shock as she examined her bottom in the mirror – it wasn't as damaged as it felt, but there was still a fetching red shine to it. She prodded it gently with her fingers, and winced as she tried to rub some of the sting away.

 

The next morning, as David got up, he was surprised to find the kitchen cleaner than he'd seen it in months. He guessed that Sharon had got up early today – usually, she stayed in bed for quite a while. As he sat down to eat breakfast, Sharon came into the room. There was a bounce in her step and a smile on her face, and though she winced every time her bottom brushed against something, she seemed happier and more energetic than he'd seen her in months. She came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

 

“Thank you,” she said.

 

“For what?” he said, smiling back. He wanted to hear her say it.

 

She shrugged. “You know. For being caring. For being here.”

 

She fetched her pillow and placed it on a chair, before slowly lowering herself onto it. He smiled as he watched her grimace when her bottom finally touched down.

 

“Sharon,” he said after a while. “I think you've been a bit lazy lately, and I'm not happy with the attitude you've been giving me. I think that there's going to be some consequences for that sort of behaviour in the future.” She tried to fight the grin that was spreading across her face, but it was futile.

 

“I'll be good, I promise,” she told him at last.

 

“We'll see,” he told her. “But now we know what will happen if you don't.”

Spanking the schoolgirl (F/F story)

 It was shortly before Halloween, and Kate was out looking for a costume. Having done her best to be scary the previous years, she decided that this year, she would try something a bit more modern – the sexy kinds of costumes. Sure, it broke every tradition, but it would be fun to look a bit slutty for a night – see all the young men get their hopes up, and watch as they realized she was already seeing someone.

 

In one costume shop, she spotted something that caught her attention – a schoolgirl outfit hanging by the door. She'd seen a few of them hanging around before, but they usually fell in one of two categories – either too slutty, with a non-existent skirt and a shirt with too few buttons, or too realistic, which was no fun at all. Actually, a realistic schoolgirl uniform hanging in a shop like this was one of the creepiest things she could imagine.

 

But this uniform was somewhere in between. The skirt was short, but not too short – no one would see her panties (or lack of such) unless she wanted them too. And it came with a proper shirt, and some long white socks and matching panties. She decided she wanted it.

 

She considered waiting until Halloween before springing the costume on her girlfriend, but found that she couldn't keep the surprise in her that long. She slipped into the costume, and entered the living room where Cecilia was waiting. The gasp that Cecilia made was loud enough to stop her in her tracks. Her girlfriend was turning pale, and seemed to look everywhere but at her. Kate smiled to herself. It seemed Cecilia had a thing for schoolgirl uniforms. She hadn't known that. She decided a few quick kisses would make her feel better, and things progressed quickly from there.

 

A few days later, Cecilia had to work late. When she finally made it home, late in the evening, she sat on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand as she felt the stress of the day slowly disappearing. Kate smiled to herself before slipping off to the bedroom. She knew something that would make her feel better.

 

She returned in a few minutes, in the schoolgirl uniform. She stepped up behind her girlfriend, giving her shoulders a quick massage. Cecilia smiled gratefully up at her, her breath catching in her throat as she spotted the uniform. There was a poorly restrained lust in her eyes, and she licked her lips.

 

"Do you like my little uniform?" Kate asked as if she didn't know the answer already. "Do you like schoolgirl Kate?"

 

"Are you a good little schoolgirl, Kate?" Cecilia asked. "Or a bad one?"

 

An interesting question, Kate thought to herself. "A bad one," she replied, grinning. "A VERY bad one."

 

Suddenly, Kate found herself being pulled forward, over her girlfriend's lap. Her head was still spinning with confusion when the first smack landed, bringing with it a slight sting that made her kick her legs.

"I know what to do with naughty schoolgirls," Cecilia said, her voice full of lust as she started spanking the skirt-covered rear end before her.

Smoking burn (F/f story)

As Jennifer approached the counter at the store, it felt like her heart was trying to escape from her chest. 'Stay calm', she told herself, forcing herself to breathe normally – or as close to it as she possibly could. 'Don't look nervous, don't draw attention to yourself. In a few seconds, you'll be out of here.'
 
She placed her items on the counter, and the girl working there barely looked up as she scanned them, took the crumpled bill Jennifer handed her, and gave her back the change. Jennifer left the store, trying her hardest to look normal in every possible way.
 
Once she was out of the store, and out of sight, she gasped for air. She hadn't even noticed she'd held her breath. But as she glanced down at the pack of cigarettes in her hand, she grinned to herself. She'd made it out with her price.
 
Jennifer had always looked old for her age, and at thirteen, she could easily pass for a young adult, if she dressed the part. And today, she had. Of course, she would never have tried this at home – it was far too likely that she'd be recognized, either by the workers, or by other shoppers. But half an hour by bus in any direction, and no one knew her face.
 
She coughed loudly as she took the first few puffs of the cigarette. It wasn't her first cigarette, but she was still far from an experienced smoker, and the smoke hurt her lungs. Deep breaths, she told herself as she walked through town, intending to do a bit of shopping before she got on the bus home.
 
She tossed the cigarette butt on the ground, pulling another out of the carton, while she looked at one of the dresses in the window. It was cute, but a bit expensive, she concluded. She would have to make sure she had enough money for the bus.
 
"What do you think you are doing?" a calm, but strict voice said behind her. With a cold shiver running down her back, she turned to face the policewoman standing right behind her. She was a full foot taller than Jennifer, who found the woman quite intimidating.
 
"Is there something wrong, officer?" Jennifer said, trying to stay calm despite the alarm bells ringing in her head. Stay calm, she reminded herself again. Maybe you can bluff your way out.
 
The officer pointed at the cigarette butt that Jennifer had just discarded. "Go find a trash can for that. Don't litter."
 
She could feel the relief surging through her as she picked it up, throwing it in the nearest trash can. That was all, just littering. She didn't know anything.
 
Unfortunately, her relief must have been visible, because the policewoman was studying her with a suspicious look on her face. "How old are you?" she said at last.
 
"I'm... I'm eighteen," she said, almost making a grave error. Usually when she lied about her age, she only needed to claim to be sixteen, and habit almost steered her wrong. But she corrected herself just in time.
 
"Do you have any ID?"
 
She patted her pockets, pretending she was looking for her wallet. "Not on me, no. Sorry," she said, still trying to remain calm.
 
Unfortunately, it didn't seem like she believed her, and the woman suddenly reached into Jennifer's pocket, pulling out her wallet. "I could see it through the fabric," she told her as she went through it, finding Jennifer's school ID.  "THIRTEEN!?" she gasped, glaring at the teenager, who suddenly felt like fainting – or more preferably, running away. "You looked a little young to be smoking, but thirteen?" She fixed Jennifer with the coldest, angriest stare the teenager had seen in her life, and suddenly, she grabbed her arm and pulled her away. "Come here, young lady."
 
She marched Jennifer over to her nearby police car, pushing her into the back seat. Jennifer felt more like fainting with every second that passed. She was about to be arrested. Thirteen years old, and she was already in the back of a police car. She wondered with dread what her parents would say when the police drove her home. They wouldn't like it, she supposed.
 
But instead of getting behind the wheel, and driving Jennifer to her eventual fate, the policewoman got in the back seat with her, sitting down next to the nervous teen. "What you did today was very irresponsible," the policewoman said. "Cigarettes are kept from minors for a REASON."
 
As the lecture went on, the teen found it harder to keep the tears away. She sniffed, and was surprised when the woman but her hand on her shoulder, calming her down. "Am... am I going to be arrested?" she asked.
 
The woman smiled at she shook her head. "You're young, you shouldn't have a record. Trust me, those things never go away. So no, I'm not going to arrest you." The smile vanished. "I am, however, going to punish you."
 
"Punish?" Jennifer said, a lump forming in her throat. She didn't like the sound of that.
 
The woman nodded. And gently, but quite firmly, she grabbed the teen's shoulder and guided her over her lap. Jennifer bit her lip as she realized that the woman was about to spank her, only seconds before the first smack rang out, bringing a sharp sting to Jennifer's behind. "Ouch!" she yelled as the policewoman's firm palm kept landing on the seat of her jeans, the sting gradually building with every smack.